You told me not to cry,
so I never will again.

I internalise my tears until they nearly overflow,
until I'm fit to burst,
and the strain could **** anyone who comes too close.
And pressed deep inside my heart,
those tears will turn to ice
that creeps like frost through my frozen blood.

And you ask me why my hands are cold.

Now I wont say I have a frozen heart -
because I'm not devoid of feeling.
But my lungs are tipped with ice
and my veins are the blue of frost,
the whites of my eyes are as weepingly white
as freshly fallen snow.
I don't know if I'm cold because of the weight I've lost
or whether I've just lost all of my heat.

I'm scared you'll warm my heart,
because I know that if you do
I wont be able to stop the tears from flowing,
and they'll never stop.